Dear Saturday Afternoon,
It's been a long time since we've spent time alone together. I haven't meant to neglect you, it's just that with the second job and the triathlon training, I haven't had a lot of extra time on my hands. It was nice to get reacquainted with you today. Our time together slipped by in spurts.
The bookstore: My back feels strangely stiff, on the verge of painful spasms. I walk around slowly, massaging my spine with one hand and praying I don't have to leave the bookstore on a stretcher. A man approaches me, and asks me if I know where he can find a good yoga studio. "I'm not sure," I reply. "I don't do yoga."
"How surprising!" he replies. "You have such a lovely physique and posture, I assumed you must be a yogi."
"Thank you," I say sincerely but suspiciously. I hobble off to hide in Feminist Fiction.
A moment later, a cockatoo named Casper lands on my arm. He's owned by a painfully lonely-looking old man, who has taught the bird to say "I love you." I hand the bird back and smile. Casper poops on the floor. My heart breaks.
The grocery store: I eye the fresh flowers, marked down (or possibly up) for Mother's Day. I feel a bit sorry for the people handing out samples; customers are acting like they're being invited to sample small bags of rock cocaine. I however, am shameless. I sample raspberry pancakes and chocolate-dipped strawberries, hoping to avoid spending money on lunch.
The liquor store: I'm here to buy a bottle of wine for my friend Kat's birthday dinner. The store is sandwiched, appropriately and unapologetically, between a Chuck E. Cheese and a discount fabric store. In the parking lot, a father and daughter spot a neighbor's car and speculate which store he's in. They decide it's most likely Chuck E. Cheese. Apparently, the neighbor is a bit creepy. I wonder if he does yoga.
I retreat home to do laundry, walk the dog, and blog.
Ahh... Saturday. I've missed you.